


Make The Yuletide Gay

by hollytabatha



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas AU, Decorating Christmas trees, Fluff, HALLMARK HIRE ME, Harry has a weird job, Louis is a little sad, M/M, One Night Stand, Oneshot, SO MUCH FLUFF, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, mentions of character death (not Louis or Harry), they both have the same ugly sweater on, they get on very well for a one night stand situation, tweet inspired au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollytabatha/pseuds/hollytabatha
Summary: The ugly, hideous Christmas jumper Louis found in a charity shop that has two big appropriately placed teddy bears and the words ‘Stop staring at my teddies’ on it is staring him in the face, but not on his own chest, but the chest of the stranger in front of him.“How the Fuck,” He mutters to himself. But really, how the fuck? Unless the poor dead grandmother that had a taste for innuendo Christmas jumpers managed to own two of these beauties, he can’t quite believe that someone else in this godforsaken bar could own one.“Hey, stop staring at my teddies,” the man pouts, a giggle bubbling up in his chest before he even has a chance of being taken seriously.-Louis has a disdain for Christmas songs and ugly Christmas sweaters, but maybe spending a night with Harry will change that for good.





	Make The Yuletide Gay

**Author's Note:**

> Hm.  
> So maybe It's been a few years since I've written something. Maybe.  
> Welcome to academic life!!  
> Anyways, this fic was inspired by a tweet I saw about some girl's friend going home with a guy and helping him put up his tree at 4:30am. Very wholesome, so of course I had to write Louis and Harry into the situation.  
> I hope you enjoy it and I hope I'm not too rusty from my long time away from writing fics!  
> Merry Christmas :)  
> Click here to share it on tumblr! : http://nympholouis.tumblr.com/post/181022304247/nympholouis-make-the-yuletide-gay-3k-the

****

**23rd of December, 8:45pm**

There’s only so many times Louis can handle hearing Rocking Around The Christmas Tree and Last Christmas back to back, but since his new intern job at a radio station, his tolerance for Christmas music has reached a record low.

Nevertheless, he has still managed to find himself watching another fellow intern, Niall, aggressively fist pumping along to George Michael’s crooning voice, stomping on the sticky bar floor so hard the little bells on his tacky christmas jumper ring loudly with the music.

Louis watches Niall for another minute, the moves getting more enthusiastic by the minute until Niall spots Annie The Intern a few people in front of him and ropes her into his mating ritual.

That is Louis very loud cue to leave, so he plucks up his cocktail and bolts to a nice secluded corner of the student bar.

Getting his job was a dream, and something he had to jump many hurdles to get through, but the one thing he doesn’t appreciate coming with the job is the work christmas parties, full of forced smiles and middle-aged women guzzling prosecco like a lifeline. Louis supposes he can sympathise with them now, standing here in a scratchy sweater in a too-hot bar, his cocktail going lukewarm in his hands. He too could down a bottle of prosecco to make it through the night.

Before he considers converting that thought into an action, he feels another presence at his left, a shadow falling on his side amongst the blue & green flashing bar lights.

“Well, one of us are going to have to change.”

Louis startles at the deep voice, turning to face the source of the sound, which just so happens to be a man around his age with coiffed curls touching the tips of his ears and a coy smile on his dimpled cheeks. Louis is silent for a beat, partly from confusion and partly due having the attention of a beautiful man on him for more than 5 seconds.

Soon the cocktail in his system jumps to action, and he's turning and cocking a hip at the man, chin tilling up, before it clicks in his head what the man just said and--

Oh.

The ugly, hideous christmas jumper he found in a charity shop that has two big appropriately placed teddy bears and the words ‘Stop staring at my teddies’ on it is staring him in the face, but not on his own chest, but the chest of the stranger in front of him.

“How the Fuck,” He mutters to himself. But really, how the fuck? Unless the poor dead grandmother that had a taste for innuendo christmas jumpers managed to own two of these beauties, he can’t quite believe that someone else in this godforsaken bar could own one.

“Hey, stop staring at my teddies,” the man pouts, a giggle bubbling up in his chest before he even has a chance of being taken seriously.

Louis gapes at him. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that two of these sweaters exist in the world or the fact that you just tried to repeat their awful pun in real life.”

“Oh come on, someone in the 80’s probably thought long and hard thinking up that smashing pun,” The man argues, still giggling softly to himself.

Louis is left speechless as the strange man once more, until he sighs quietly and says, “Louis. I’m Louis.”

He’s met with a wide grin and an even wider palm that is thrust forward, which he shakes gingerly. An oddly formal greeting for a student bar in Christmas, but not a lot of this meeting has been normal to begin with.

“Harry, at your service!” Harry says with a flourishing shake of his hand.

“What service?” Louis asks dubiously.

It makes Harry pause. “Huh, I don’t know, actually. It’s just a thing people say sometimes but I’ve never been asked about it so now you’re making me feel stupid.”

“Can’t be anymore stupid than we both are already in these ugly jumpers, sweating in a bar.”

“Good point,” Harry agrees, before clapping a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Why don’t we go get some more cocktails and talk about our taste in ugly clothing.”

Louis follows Harry with little fuss, the lights making their matching sweaters glow in the crowd.

**23rd of December, 10:03pm**

“Wait, hold on, say that again. You do what exactly?” Louis asks, his smile feeling like it's taking up half his face as he twists in his seat to interrogate harry,  his 4th cocktail wobbling precariously on the table.

“I’m a professional Groomsman,” Harry says with complete seriousness.

And no, surely not. Louis may be drunk but he isn’t drunk enough to believe a phony job like that. “Nah, you’re at it mate. No way is that a real job,” he argues, prodding an accusatory finger at Harry’s firm chest.

“It is! I swear!” Harry exclaims, before scrambling for his wallet. “Here, look,” He pulls out a small pale pink card with swirling, golden calligraphy.

Louis squints at it in the dim light, expecting it to be some kind of lame joke card, but no, there it is.

_Harry Styles, Professional groomsman. The best man around to be your Best Man._

“What the fuck… It’s real,” Louis mutters.

“Yep. I love weddings so much but I’m not really good at event planning or anything typical in the professional side of it, so I thought I might give being a professional groomsman a go. I can put on a great stag do and I promise I won’t chat up anyone at the wedding. You can keep that, if you want. Just in case… you know, you might be needing one at some point,” Harry shrugs awkwardly.

Louis rolls his eyes, slipping the card in his pocket, “I’m still struggling to believe this is an actual thing, and you’re not subtle. I’m not getting married any time soon. Unless I’m getting married to myself, because, like, I’m single,” He mumbles, realising he isn’t making 100% sense but he’s a little flirty and a whole lot drunk so he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Good. No, I mean--not good that you’re not getting married,” Harry panics, “Getting married is wonderful, really it’s so lovely. Trust me, I’ve seen enough to know, but like, good that you’re.. Yeah,” He ends his rambling with a proud smile, like he’s said something of worth in that jumbled nonsense, but Louis can respect that, as he too is a drunk mess. It is nice to have a comrade in trying times like these. Comrades in matching jumpers.

Harry squints at Louis, before doing a salute, and that’s when Louis realises he must have thought the last part out loud. He salutes back at Harry, before downing the last of his cocktail in one long sip.  

**23rd of December, 11:35pm**

Harry tastes like peach schnapps under Louis’ tongue, and he wants to explore if he can taste the cherry shots they had too in there, but the sharp beep of a horn has them pulling apart with a smack of their lips.

He looks out into the frosty street, hands buried under Harry’s sweater for warmth, until he spots their Uber car parked up on the curb.

“C’mon,” Louis mumbles, tugging Harry by his sweater into the waiting van. As soon as they are settled in the seats and he throws out his address to the driver, his head thuds onto Harry’s shoulder tiredly. Perhaps he’d like to get his mouth on him again, but he doesn’t think the uber driver deserves the sight of that as an early Christmas gift.

He can’t really remember what happened to take him from being alone in a scratchy jumper, to him still wearing the jumper but now snogging a handsome professional groomsman. He thinks it was somewhere around the end of the 5th cocktail, when Harry claimed that Mariah Carey made _the_ best christmas song ever and they simply _must_ get up and dance to it, and soon playful jumping around with each other turned into a slow rotation of hips and a touch of tongues.

An Interesting escalation of events, one might think.

Harry is drawing swirls and circles on Louis’ jean-clad thighs, the rise of his shoulders under Louis’ temple almost sending him off to sleep.

“I forgot to ask, what were you doing in the bar in the first place?” Harry asks.

 “‘Stupid Christmas work night out thing. We were all told to wear christmas sweaters, hence this ugly thing. I’m guessing you also had an ugly sweater party with your mates?” Louis snorts quietly, his body shifting with Harry’s as the uber takes a sharp turn.

“Uh, I was with mates, yeah, but--” Harry stammers, “I actually just… like wearing ugly sweaters. I think they’re fun, kind of like an old relic of the tacky past. I could start a small museum with the amount I have,” he admits, cheeks rosy under the passing street lamps outside. “I don’t know how you managed to snag that one, I spent like, stupid money for it on ebay from a woman in america.”

Louis giggles at the ridiculous boy, endeared by his quirky hair, quirky job and even quirkier sweaters. “The ugly sweater gods have surely wrote it in our destiny that we would meet tonight, and unite as innuendo sweater comrades!” Louis thrusts his fist in the air, flopping it into his lap drunkenly before reaching up and smacking a kiss on Harry’s soft lips.

 “Silly, quirky boy, the best man comrade,” He mumbles, into Harry’s lips, both of them giggling quietly at each other as the Uber takes them home.

** 23th December, 11:55pm  **

They stumble into Louis’ apartment, his wonky lights exposing the emptiness of the living room. He feels a little embarrassed, looking at how bare it looks and knowing someone else is gazing around at the scene too.

“Nice place,” Harry says, closing the door with a click and clasping his hands together.

“I know it doesn’t look like much but… I don’t know, do you want a drink or something?” Louis asks, diverting the question and drumming his fingers on his kitchen table.

“Nah, I don’t think I should be drinking any more after the amount of woo woos I had,” Harry groans, patting his chest mournfully.

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

They pause, staring at each other in the silence, Harry shifting his weight on the creaky floorboards quietly.

“Do you want to... go to my room?”

“Absolutely.”

**December 24th, 3:35am**

Louis can count on one hand the number of times he has fallen into bed with a man he had just met a few hours prior. All were disappointing, all had him feeling rotten immediately afterwards.

But now… Now is different. Now his ugly sweater is discarded in a pile with it’s matching twin, and now there’s bruises up and down his neck and a warm burn at the base of his spine.

He doesn’t feel weird like he usually does, and after the second round he most definitely doesn’t feel disappointed, and it’s… different. A nice different.

Harry’s chest lowers under Louis’ head as he releases a long, pleasant sigh. “I don’t really do that, you know. It’s surprisingly hard to get the attention of handsome men when you’re wearing a sweater their gran probably died in 5 years ago,” he murmurs, his fingertips swirling up and down Louis’ spine.

Louis snorts, “Me neither. You’re very lucky, I’m like a rare pokemon. Only so many men get to catch me. It’s my birthday now too, so I’m even more rare and special tonight. You should be proud of a catch like that,” he rambles, poking the closest nipple in his reach. He has a lot of nipples to choose from, he noticed earlier.

Harry gasps dramatically, sitting up so Louis is forced to sit up himself. “It’s your birthday?! Why didn’t you say? I would’ve… I don’t know actually what I would’ve done, but I would’ve found a way to make it an extra special birthday shag. You’re a christmas baby too!” Harry ruffles Louis hair, pressing a kiss on his forehead and crossing his legs.

“Yep, that’s me. The best gift at Christmas,” Louis rolls his eyes.

“Why don’t you have your tree up or anything? You should be fully embracing your christmas babyhood, have your face stuck to the star at the very top of the tree.”

Louis goes quiet at this, his fingers interlacing on his lap. He doesn’t want to get into it, and certainly not with a one night stand no matter how cute and nice they are, but before he can really stop himself his mouth opens and it all pours out.

“My er…--. I just feel a bit weird, decorating just for myself. We used to make a big deal about christmas when I was younger, it was my whole family’s favourite time together but now all my sisters have their own lives in london or up with my gran and, since my mum passed away around christmas a few years ago, it just doesn’t feel right to be throwing tinsel on everything, pretending like everything is the same, and everything is okay, even though she isn’t here. Christmas just feels pointless now.” He blinks rapidly, his throat feeling tight now that the words are out, and he’s exposed something he’s only really pondered on to himself.

The only response he receives is silence, before Harry shifts and wraps an arm around Louis’ waist, his warm chest pressing against the sensitive skin of Louis’ side.

“I… god, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry it’s made you feel this way. I can’t imagine how hard this time of year must be for you, but,” he pauses, “feel free to tell me to fuck off if it’s none of my business, but.. If it was such a happy time for you and you have good memories with your mum and family around Christmas, don’t you think she’d maybe want you to keep it going? To make this time of year happy again, so you can remember your happy memories with her and not the sad stuff.” Harry’s thumb rubs softly back and forth over Louis’ hip, before he continues. 

“I know when my step-dad passed, my sister and mum made point of still doing the things he loved to do, because we know he wouldn’t want us to be sad, and it makes feel close to him in a way, still.”

Louis sniffs quietly, rubbing at his nose. God, he hasn’t cried over this for a long time, but having someone so gently speak about something that has weighted his shoulders down for so long just brings all his emotions ahead.

 “I’ve been caught up in the loss of it all so much that I’ve never thought of it that way, but I’m sure that isn’t what she’d want, she’d probably want us all happy and celebrating, not moping around.”

“It’s okay to mope, I completely get it, but you need to let yourself feel happy sometimes too.”

Louis turns to face Harry, taking in his rosy cheeks and messy hair. “Thank you, honestly,” he leans forward, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“You you still have Christmas decorations around?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I think there’s a few things in my cupboard but I got rid of a lot,” Louis shrugs.

Tentatively Harry takes louis’ hand, a kind smile on his lips. “You should maybe dig them out, put some up.”

“Would you like to do it with me?” Louis asks.

Harry looks a little surprised at the question, but soon a full smile grows on his lips and he nods, “It would be an honour, comrade.”

Louis smiles back, before lacing their fingers together and dragging Harry away from the bed.

**24th of December, 4:30am**

Judy Garland sings sweetly of having a merry little christmas from Harry’s Christmas spotify playlist, the man himself singing along to the song in his own soulful version quietly under Judy’s vocals.

He’s in the middle of untangling some ancient Christmas tree lights that have been shoved in a box for 3 years, and Louis watches him struggle fondly for a beat before joining him, their fingers brushing softly over the wires.

“I don’t think I can thank you much more than I already have for doing this with me, but really,” Louis murmurs honestly, going up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“No need to thank me, I can’t think of a better way to start Christmas Eve. And I haven’t done much,” Harry shrugs, “Other than those amazing tinfoil decorations I made, I am pretty chuffed with those.”

Louis laughs and turns to stare at his tree. Only a few of the original christmas decorations survived over time, but Harry made up for their absence by rolling up tin foil balls and cutting hearts and stars out of the metal, making the tree look homely in a way that makes Louis’ heart melt at the very thought.

“You could definitely sell them, I reckon,” Louis says as he finally unravels the lights. Both he and harry begin wrapping them around the tree precariously, only a table lamp and vanilla candle in the room to light their way.

Finally the tree is almost complete, and Greg Lake begins to play from Harry’s phone. Harry leans down to the socket by the tree, his long finger hovering over the switch.

“Okay, give me a drum roll or something, like the one from the national lampoon's christmas vacation!”

“From the what?” Louis giggles, his smile growing bigger by the second watching Harry bent over the side of the armchair awkwardly.

Harry turns in shock to stare at louis. “You’ve never-- _what?_ Right, after this is done I’m putting that movie on. It’s Christmas Comedy gold, I swear,” Harry says before leaning over again. “Drum roll, please.”

Louis smacks out a drumbeat on the arm of the couch, Harry singing _Joy To The World_ loudly before the lights finally switch on, Lighting the room softly and bouncing dazzlingly off the tinfoil balls.

“Wow…” Louis murmurs, standing in front of the tree as Harry ambles over to wrap an arm around Louis’ shoulders.

“Merry Christmas, Louis,” Harry murmurs, “And happy birthday, of course. That one is the most important.”

Quickly Louis turns and kisses Harry deeply, the other man holding Louis tightly so they don’t end up tumbling into the tree.

“The ugly sweater gods really did do something right putting us together tonight,” Louis says, turning to face the tree once again. “I think I might try and get my sisters over tomorrow, or today, I guess,” Louis says, staring at the clock on the shelf that is slowly approaching 5am. “We could have a little dinner if they’ve not got plans, like you said. I think it would be good for us to be together.”

“That’s great. Please tell them it was me that made the beautiful decorations too. Can’t let that work get disrespected,” Harry nods, smiling at his own wonky creations on the tree.

“Maybe you could show off your work to them yourself, If you want,” Louis suggests shyly, tangling his finger’s in Harry’s sweater. “Or like, you don’t have to of course. We’ve only just met and you might have plans with your family and I can’t even cook so It’s not like we’ll be having anything other than takeaway but--”

“Of course I’ll stay, if you’ll have me,” Harry cuts off Louis’ rambling, punctuating it with a kiss to his forehead. “I’ve got to make sure this work gets the credit it deserves.”

“Thank you, and of course. They truly are a masterpiece.”

“I’ll even wear one of my nice ugly christmas jumpers specially for the occasion. It is what brought us together, after all,” Harry adds, a cheesy grin on his lips.

Louis rolls his eyes, giggling and feeling full of a soft, new happiness he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe it’s the twinkling Christmas lights of his childhood, or maybe it’s the quirky man beside him in a scratchy sweater, he’s not sure, but what he is sure of is that maybe ugly jumpers and cheesy christmas music really aren’t that bad after all.

 

 


End file.
